


My Brother, Not My Friend

by orphan_account



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Family, Gen, i wanted to explore kastor's character a little and this was the perfect opportunity, not angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 17:08:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7853770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He stared down at the sword, protruding from his stomach and attached to his brother's hand and it felt odd, strange, like he was watching from inside someone else's body. He heard a scream and he wasn't sure where it had come from. He looked up and took in Kastor's face, his eyes wide and his features stamped with disbelief, eyebrows deeply furrowed.</p><p>That was all he could take in, really, before the pain became overwhelming and his vision went black.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Brother, Not My Friend

**Author's Note:**

> i planned all my capri week fics out a month in advance and i have been dying to share them!! i'm so excited it's finally happening!! the ones i share on ao3 are ones that i'm particularly happy with so i hope everyone who reads this enjoys them too <3

It was painful. It started in his stomach and exploded outward. It was overwhelming and it was all Damen could really think about.

He stared down at the sword, protruding from his stomach and attached to his brother's hand and it felt odd, strange, like he was watching from inside someone else's body. He heard a scream and he wasn't sure where it had come from. He looked up and took in Kastor's face, his eyes wide and his features stamped with disbelief, eyebrows deeply furrowed.

That was all he could take in, really, before the pain became overwhelming and his vision went black.

*****

Damen found himself restless, cooped up in his chambers with nothing to do. He wasn't allowed to get up or move around, and his father obviously knew him too well, because physicians came in and out of the room at irregular times, just to check that Damen wasn't doing anything he shouldn't be.

Nikandros, who was now fourteen and had made a pastime of gloating about it to Damen, came to do exactly that. Damen would have kicked him, if he'd been allowed to move.

"How did this happen?" Nikandros asked, cutting his bragging shorter than usual, his brows drawn together and his fingertips ghosting over Damen's wound (which Damen had happily uncovered, even if it had hurt, relishing the shocked expression on Nikandros's face).

"Kastor fought me with real swords, like men do!"

He'd been expecting Nikandros to grin, or to laugh, or to ask about it with wide eyes and a dropped jaw, but as it was, he just stared at Damen, an expression of mild shock on his face.

"Kastor stabbed you?" He asked, sounding apalled.

"It wasn't like that! We were swordfighting, Nikandros." Something irked him about the look on Nikandros's face. It was as if he'd seen something personally offensive.

"Still -" Nikandros was interrupted by the door opening. Damen didn't look at first, thinking it was another physician. But Nikandros was staring at whoever it was with hard eyes.

"Kastor!" Damen looked over and Kastor was stood in the doorway, one hand entangled in his short hair, the other holding a small cotton bag. Kastor entered the room slowly, uncertainly, his eyes darting about before they landed on Nikandros, sat by Damen's bedside with his mouth in a hard line, and then Damen. Kastor's eyes focused on the healing gash on Damen's stomach.

"How are you feeling, brother?" Kastor came to stand at the foot of Damen's bed, holding out the bag in his hand, before he took in Damen's state and seemed to realise his brother couldn't get up to grab it. He came to the side of the bed opposite Nikandros and placed the bag there instead.

"Better. This is for me?" Damen fingered the twine keeping his gift shut. Kastor nodded and Damen opened the pouch with eager fingers to reveal a bag full of candied figs. He caught himself before he could frown, and looked up at Kastor with a smile instead.

"Thank you!" He said, happy he'd even been brought something at all. Nikandros leaned over to look in the bag and he didn't bother to hide his frown.

"But you -"

"They're yours," Said Kastor. "Enjoy." He turned to leave.

"You're not staying?" Damen asked, and he couldn't keep the disappointment from his voice. Kastor glanced down at Damen's wound and then back up.

"No, I'm afraid I have errands to run," He looked down at Damen's wound again. "I'm sorry."

There was a pause after he'd left, heavy and awkward. Damen closed the bag of fruit.

"You can't eat figs. They give you skin rashes and make your face swell." Said Nikandros, looking at Damen, frowning.

"He must just have forgotten," Damen replied. "I can't expect him to remember everything about me."

"But surely a brother should remember-"

"Nikandros," Damen said, harshly, and Nikandros stopped talking. "It's nothing to fuss over. All that's ever happened is my face swelling. Figs are inconvenient, not fatal."

Nikandros's mouth became a hard line once again. He didn't look convinced.

*****

After his stomach had healed enough that he was allowed to fight again, Damen found himself knocking on his brother's door only to come away sullen and disappointed. He’d gone to ask for one more swordfight, eager for another taste of a real blade, only to be bluntly refused. He made his way through the palace, and outside into the warm, breezy air of the training area, his arms crossed over his chest the entire time. The air carried the smell of the sea with it, one of Damen’s favourite smells; it reminded him of swimming in the ocean and days away from the palace with Nikandros and the feeling of hot sand beneath his skin. Damen ignored the smell, deciding resolutely to stay in his bad mood.  
Nikandros was there, as usual, already training. He moved with all the speed and grace of a tiger, his lightly muscled legs pulling him to and fro. Before long, the younger boy he was fighting was sprawled on the floor, panting and defeated. Nikandros wasn't one to gloat after a win, but when he turned and saw Damen, his victorious smile only got wider. Damen wasn’t happy about it, but he felt his own mood shift.

“Damen!” His friend shouted, jumping up out of the pit of sand and sawdust.

"It's good to see you walking around again,” Nikandros pointed behind himself with his thumb, to the boys crowded around the pit. “Tassos has been waiting to fight you.”

Damen waved off the wooden sword that Nikandros pushed his way and got a frown in response.

“Not today.”

“Damen. What’s wrong?”

“Kastor refuses to fight me. He simply says that he does not want to." Nikandros held the practice sword out to Damen once again, a large, warm smile gracing his face.

"You've beaten him, and he is bitter. But I will fight you, if you're healed and up to the challenge."

*****

The boys standing around the pit, who had been watching their prince and his friend fight with complete, fixated attention, erupted into cheers when it was finally over. Over ten minutes of parrying with wooden swords had left both Damen and Nikandros panting with exertion.

Damen's sword lay on the sandy ground by his head, while Nikandros had kept a firm grip on his own.

Something flickered in Damen's chest, something bitter and immature and shameful, and he fought to keep it down. Nikandros held a hand out, to help him up, and Damen grabbed his wrist, feeling Nikandros’s fingers curl around his.

"You have bested me." Damen said, unable to keep the last traces of bitterness out of his voice, but Nikandros just smiled at him.

"It was a good fight. Perhaps next time I won't be so lucky," He pulled Damen up. "Come. Let us sit and rest." There were a few titters and whispers at Nikandros's relaxed tone. None of the other boys would dare tell the prince what to do.

As they walked off to the drinking fountains in the shade, two younger boys, who had obviously been inspired by the fight they'd just seen, picked up the discarded swords eagerly. Damen could hear their grunting and wood clashing from where he stood. Nikandros took a drink from a goblet of water and then passed it to Damen and Damen could feel his friend's eyes on him.

"Maybe your brother is simply tired." Said Nikandros, voice low.

"Maybe," Damen replied, drinking some water and passing the cup back to Nikandros. "But he has made it clear that he feels guilty for injuring me. Even though he has no need to. It's not as if he hurt me purposely." Nikandros looked away, and said nothing, simply continued to sip from the goblet.

"What? Tell me what you're thinking." There was a pause.

"I'd prefer to not be killed for treason." Damen couldn't be sure if he was joking or not.

"It wasn't on purpose, Nikandros. I saw his face. He was just as shocked as me." Nikandros fell silent once again. They stood like that, quietly, the tension slowly melting away until the silence was comfortable.

"Be safe, Damen. Please." When Nikandros spoke, his voice was soft. Damen smiled.

"Of course. My brother wouldn't hurt me."

*****

The day following their practice match, Damen and Nikandros had agreed to go to the market together, and maybe swim in the ocean afterwards. When he was already dressed and prepared to leave, Damen went to sling his satchel over his shoulder only to find it wasn't where he'd left it. After looking in the same predictable places over and over he started opening drawers and pulling out their contents. He looked under his bed and all over his chambers and even in his private bath. He'd all but ransacked his own rooms, trying to find it. Nikandros came searching for him, and found him stood in a pile of his own possessions, probably looking just as frustrated as he felt.

"You have others, just use one of those." Nikandros suggested, in a tone that said he thought Damen was being ridiculous.

Damen would have preferred to have his usual one. It was a present from his father, and he wore it on his shoulder proudly whenever he left the palace. It had a lion's head on it. Damen heaved one long, heavy sigh and picked up one of his other, plainer satchels, leaving the mess in his rooms for someone else to clean.

His mood lifted once they stepped out into the fresh, warm Akielon air, and Damen resolutely put the satchel out of his mind.

When he came back in the late afternoon, his hair tangled and wet, he found his chambers immaculate and his lion head satchel sitting by his desk, exactly where he remembered leaving it.

*****

After the day at the market, Damen started noticing his belongings being misplaced more and more. He wasn't sure if he was noticing because of the satchel or it had only very recently started happening.

At first, Damen thought it was the slaves, but none of them were ever defiant or brave enough to steal. Then, he thought he must just have been overlooking things, but the objects would always be back in the place he'd left them when they returned.

A set of goblets, a statuette, his comb, a few of his rings. Things he didn't necessarily need, yet their absence irritated him all the same. He would always find them right back where they were supposed to be. He started staying indoors, hoping to catch whoever was taking from him, but no one came. He would lie on his bed, thinking maybe he'd dreamed his things disappearing.

That particular day, however, he was interrupted by knocking at the door and it opened to reveal Kastor, wooden sword in hand. Damen forgot all about his belongings the second he laid eyes on that sword.

"Fancy another round, little brother?"

*****

Damen's whole arm shook with the effort of keeping the wooden hilt in his hand. Kastor had been merciless since they'd begun and every time Damen thought he had a chance of winning, his brother came back with a new wave of intensity.

His forearms and his shoulders and his feet ached, but he refused to simply hand the victory over to Kastor.

The blows were almost too fast to block, and constant, and Kastor was moving in a way Damen had never seen him move before. It differed from how they'd been taught to fight and it was overwhelming. Kastor seemed to rely now more on force and pushing Damen back. His expression had taken on an edge that was new and frightening, and it made Damen's hands sweat and shake.

They had been fighting for a while. Damen had no idea how long. The wood of their swords collided loudly again and again, and Damen could barely swing his own, as Kastor forced him to focus on blocking. Despite all this, Damen found himself feeling giddy, excited. It flowed through him in waves and soon he couldn't differentiate between the elation and the fear.

Kastor was pushing himself because Damen had beaten him before. Kastor was taking him seriously. Kastor was fighting him like a man determined to win.  
Three blows later, and Damen's sword cracked, splitting off from the hilt. His tight grip and Kastor's strong swings had forced it into two different directions and it had broken under the strain.

Damen, who was looking at his ruined sword in awe, didn't notice Kastor's foot until it was planted firmly on his chest. His breath was pushed hard out of him as his back hit the sand. Kastor was grinning down at him, his head held high.

"I suppose it was simple good luck that let you win last time, little brother."

A smile split Damen's face, despite having lost. He took the hand his brother extended and hauled himself up with it. Kastor was already walking in the direction of the fountains, his breathing laboured and heavy.

"It will be more than luck the next time I beat you!" Damen shouted at his brother's retreating back, his breathing harsh and his voice high with excitement. Kastor stopped, and stood still for a moment, though he didn't turn around.

"I look forward to it." He said, so quietly Damen almost didn't catch it.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm always kind of gutted we never really got to see much of the relationship between damen and kastor in canon. kastor's such an interesting character, and tbh i've always liked him. and i feel like when nikandros isn't in a stressful, possibly life threatening situation 24/7, he'd probably be more friendly and calm than grumpy (still protective tho)
> 
> thank you for reading if you got this far!!


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